


Spread Your Wings (and leave me behind)

by JaggedHearts



Series: The HYDRA Files [1]
Category: Marvel 3490, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Tony Stark, Brock Rumlow Is a Crazy Asshole, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Extremis Tony Stark, F/M, Female Tony Stark, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha and Bucky bond over Hydra mind control, Not Captain America Friendly, Protective Natasha Romanov, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Winter Soldier Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-29 14:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedHearts/pseuds/JaggedHearts
Summary: Natasha Antonia Stark was a thriving scientist in the 1940's. Alongside her brother, Howard, they build a whole world of technology and science for themselves.Up until a fatal night in 1947.She was announced dead in 1949.* * *Toni wasn’t going anywhere with him as long as she had anything to do about it.“I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.





	1. Part 1 - Tales Of Flame

_March 19 th, 1947, Brooklyn, NYC_

 

The click of her heels echoed in the empty streets of Brooklyn. It was well past 11 PM, on a Monday night. No proper time for a same to be out, but when had she ever listened to rules? Her older brother had warned her about this, had tried to keep her from going.

_What good would come out of you being out so late?_ Howard had pointedly asked. She’d argued that this would not attract attention and had been adamant that this was the only way. He’d denied her. Toni wouldn’t listen.

So, she was alone, in Brooklyn of all places, in front of _his_ old apartment. It’d been two years since she’d lost him. Her first lover. He had promised her a dance. He never showed up.

_Natasha?_ Steve had never agreed to call her Toni, he had said it was disrespectful towards Howard and her parents. _I’m going to need a rain check on that dance._ She’d accepted and told him where and when, told him to not be late.

She was losing hope. Which is why she was here. Her heart beating wildly, she opened the apartment lobby door. There was no one at the desk. Why would there be? This building was abandoned soon after the war ended. Toni wished it’d be blooming like she knew it was- God, had it been only four years when Steve was ripped from normal life? A lone tear slipped down her cheek, her hand coming up harshly to wipe it away. Stark men were made of iron. She was no man, but she was of iron.

Toni runs her hand through her long luscious brown locks. Her fingers tangle in the knots that have formed during the day. Being in the labs was a nightmare, since Howard’s workers could make such a mess of things and she’d have to fix all their mistakes. They were looking into making the automobiles float. It was making progress even if the car would only hold up for a few hours and that was being still attached to the table. That needed to be rid of.

The truth towards her wish to rush the flying mobiles was once again “Steve’s fault how you’re running yourself ragged” as Howard liked to point out. It wasn’t Steve’s fault per say, she just wanted more of a connection than what she could get in those few years they knew. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Her mind pointed out. Steve’s gone, dead, body missing. And goddamn it all to hell, it hurt. It hurt so bad, when all she wanted to do was hold him close and whisper the horrors of the war away, but instead he was somewhere either alone and suffering or dead. Quit it, she told herself as she planned to head up the long staircase up to the third floor, up until she heard the noise. The door opening and cool air swishing past her, filling the room. A man dressed in all black stepped in and smirked, his mouth spread so wide that his teeth glinted in the glum light. Toni felt a shiver go down her back and felt the gun in her pocket.

“Who are you?” she questioned him. The man tipped his hat, an act of gentlemanliness, though she knew he was probably the furthest thing from that.

“I? I am simply a doctor. A doctor, who has had an unfortunately hard time finding you, Ms. Stark.” Toni’s eyebrows raised at the doctor’s slight German accent. “We believe you would be of great benefit for our cause.”

“That sounds like something I do not wish to be apart of, especially concerning you cornered me in an abandoned apartment building.” Her voice was full of skepticism and the quirked eyebrow was a great tell of her thoughts on this 'doctor'. “Now, I wish for you to leave so I can finish what I came to do. You can consider yourself dismissed.” Her words were bound to cause a reaction and it was exactly what she was aiming for. Being irritating, it would benefit her a lot in this moment.

“Oh, it is very adorable that you believe you have a say in the matter.” Toni looked at him in shock, what was this Doctor planning? “I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”

It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.

* * *

Ash.

No-

It tasted like ash, but it felt like-

Fire.

Burning.

Pain.

_Make it stop!_

Fire and ash, all around her.

_Please!_

The pain.

It was like her whole body was burning, rebuilding itself from inside out. Changing her. Destroying all of what used to be poorly humane.

_Makeitstopstopstopstopstopstop!_

She was vaguely aware of voices around her. Fading in and out as she resurfaced for mere minutes, before going under for hours.

* * *

“I thought you said she was strong.” Said a woman dressed in a black gown that fitted a funeral more than the cleansed white hospital like room they were in. “She hasn’t even fully surfaced from the undergo of the serum. How do you expect her to be better than anyone else?”

The doctor hummed, adjusting his rounded glasses on his nose. The wrinkles in his skin speaking of a wisdom beyond his years. “It’s not that much about the strength. She’ll be perfect for Project Repeat once the Asset has been controlled enough and she- I’m sure she’ll outshine even him in compliance. The stubborn ones learn the best, don’t they?”

“Project Repeat? Is it still a go?” the woman was skeptical, that much was obvious. “You’re positive the serum won’t affect anything?”

“Positive I am not, but Erskin did not report that anything would point that way, yes? He said it enhances everything and makes it better than before. So, based on that shouldn’t fertility be raised too?” The doctor stared at the long haired beaut trashing and straining for a few short minutes before going almost impossibly still.

“Harsh fate for an eighteen year old, hm?” The woman pondered before turning from the blackened window.

“Yes, I suppose. But she was far too good of a match. We’ll use her outside of Project Repeat. I think the Asset might not like her being too far if we succeed.” The doctor chuckled ominously and the woman felt a shiver go down her spine. Almost eight years in this business and she still wasn’t complete immune. It’d be her undoing, she knew. At least she’d have a good run before that. The woman knew herself to be a liability to Hydra, but she didn’t dare to let her superiors know about it. They’d kill her before she’d even finish her sentence. 

Brutality was the only way to survive and Hydra thrived in it.

She hoped that one day that would be their undoing.

The door closed behind her as she headed out of the bunker. Her family was waiting, still alive hopefully.


	2. Do (not) Comply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of manipulation and mentions of rape (afterward feelings).

_1947, Unknown Location, Hydra base_

  
After three full days, she surfaced.

  
Toni felt different. If you asked her, she wouldn’t be able to explain why. It was kind alike having your senses dialed to 11 suddenly. All too aware of her surrounding and the littlest noises possible.

  
She knew immediately when she opened her eyes that she was somewhere, in a hospital maybe, but no- hospitals didn’t usually bind your hands and feet to a gurney and put you in a cold empty (except for the single wooden chair), very white, room. Looking around her, the brunette saw a metal door, very much enforced to survive a large blast, and a dark glass, most likely reinforced too. There were no windows, no clock. No way of telling where she was and what time it was. Disorientation. Isolation. Effective methods for brainwashing. Was that what they were going to do to her?

  
Her thoughts were pushed to the side as she jolted from the clanking coming from the door being opened. In stepped the familiar man from Steve’s apartment. She tugged on her wrist, without progress of any kind in escaping. She felt the panic rise in her throat and as the door clanked shut again, she forced herself to calm down. _Jesus, you’re a Stark. Howard wouldn’t be close to crying. He’d be demanding things like the asshole he is. My asshole of a brother,_ she reminded herself.

  
“I see that you are awake.” He nodded to the brunette and sat on the uncomfortable looking chair. “Many lost hope that you’d be strong enough to survive from the pain. It’s fun, yes? Being torn apart and rebuilt again? Not as, efficient you could say, as Erskin’s and Mr. Stark’s version.” He smiled in a creepy way that had shivers rolling down her spine. The manic glint appearing in his eyes as he gazed at her body. “I had no doubt. Stubborn ones, like yourself, are the most fun to break. See the fight leave them. Stubborn ones are also harder to break out of the control they have been taken under.”

  
Toni scoffed in disgust, “like I’d agree to do anything with you. My answer is still the same, a very hard and precise no.” She kept on tugging the restrains, while keeping a careful eye on the Doctor. He sighed.

  
“It would be easier if you just complied, but then I couldn’t trust you, could I?” He eyed her anger filled eyes. “You’re very smart. Smarter than Howard, yes? And observing. You learn things quickly and use them to your advantage. You will be perfect for Project Winter Soldier and Project Repeat. Feisty and observant. Intelligent.” The glint in the Doctor’s eyes made Toni very uncomfortable.

  
“What is Project Winter Soldier and Project Repeat?” She demanded, her voice leveled and flat. The man raises his eyebrows as his lips twitched into a slow and lazy smile.

  
“You have already completed the first stage of Project Winter Soldier. Your veins run a serum, close to the one that Mr. Righteous was injected with, but better. It makes your brain more capable of settling into the Alpha state than the Beta state.” He smirked with a hidden secret behind it. Toni didn’t know what to do with all the information she had been given. “And for Project Repeat, you’ll find out later on in your career with Hydra.”

  
The brunette’s eyes widened dramatically when she realized what she had been missing from the beginning. Hydra, Nazis, everything Steve and the Commandoes had been fighting against. “But that is not possible! Hydra was taken down!” The Doctor chuckled with dark amusement.

  
“Your lovely Captain, brother and their superiors didn’t realize what Hydra is about. You remember our saying; ‘Cut off one head, two shall take it’s place’, yes?” The maniac glint returned once again, full force this time, in his eyes. “We never fell, Ms. Stark. Your attempts were pathetic! Hitler only provided money and power to grow. The Red Skull was merely a leader, a futurist. He made the path, now we shall follow it and expand it. It doesn’t have to happen in seconds. Hydra is patient and someday it shall rule over the Earth!”

  
Her eyes stay open as wide as they can be, the words sinking in. “You’re all maniacs. Insane!” She yelled at him. Realizing her mistake soon enough as he stomped towards her with confident steps and grabbed her chin. The brunette trembled.

  
“You have not seen anything yet, Ms. Stark.” His grip tightened on her and she slightly shrunk back. “And you shall know nothing anymore. Pathetic little girl, where’s your mommy now?” He sneers. “No-one will save you, and you cannot save yourself. Consider yourself lucky, for now at least.” With that he slapped her, hard, her head spinning to the side. No pain flared from the slap. When she gained her bearings, she saw him marching out and yelling, “Prepare her for Stage Two!”

  
Toni shook and tugged at the bounds once more as three large men scaled into the room, smiles vicious and sharp.

  
* * *

She woke up in agony. And on the floor. Naked.

  
Alone. Again.

  
She was bruised and battered, had broken bones for sure. The disgust rose soon. Then the anger of not being able to do anything against them, even though she had a super soldier serum racing through her veins.

  
_Шлюха. (Whore)_

  
The brunette couldn’t stop the tears. The feeling of violation was strong and if she had eaten anything, she would’ve thrown up. The sobs racked her body and echoed in the room. She knew someone- most likely the Doctor- was watching her every move. The embarrassment flared up next. If she would have been in her full senses, she’d have recognized it to be another great manipulation tactic.

  
But the pain clouded everything. The shame, the disgust, anger. Rising above all rationality. They’d taken something of hers. And hers alone to give away.

  
Soon the door opened, Toni startled and eyed the woman stepping in. She was dressed like a nurse. Holding bandages, a needle and a pile of rags that she suspected to be clothes. Before she could even gather enough strength to jump away, the woman stuck the need le in her arm and soon her world grew blurry.

  
_No!_ She tried to yell, but it was too late. The needles contents were strong to be able to affect her four times stronger metabolism.

  
So, she went under, once again.

  
* * *

  
This time she was awake sooner. It had only been a few hours. And the Doctor was back, sitting in his chair, looking at her, almost proudly.

  
“I am proud.” He announced like it was meant to mean something. “You, undergoing a different manipulation than what the Asset went through, have shown remarkable results. I thought you’d break upon Phase Two starting. I hope you didn’t mind the starting. That won’t happen again. Unless you don’t behave, darling.”

  
“I am not your darling!” She spat out. Her fury had risen once again.

  
“No, of course not. Why would you be? You’re insignificant. A weapon.” He smirked at her stunned expression. “Or you will be. I hope you remember that there is no escape. I know you probably had tried to form a plan. But tell me where would you go? To your brother? He hasn’t even noticed. Hasn’t marked you missing. Unloved is what you are. Worthless. Easily disposable.” Toni’s heart dropped at the word ‘disposable’. “But you can be more. If you join us. No-one will have to know. Be free, under our command. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it soon enough.” She didn’t want to know how that would happen and why the Doctor was so sure about it. “You’ve already healed” He tsked. “Here I was hoping you’d have more permanent damage done to you.”

  
With surprise the brunette looked at herself and confirmed his words. She was healed. All the bruises were a fading color, her broken bones almost fully healed. It seemed unlikely. Hadn’t Howard told her about how it was supposed to take a few days for broken bones, large bruises almost a day? At her furrowed brows, the Doctor smiled, “Yes. The original serum was slower in healing. But we- I- upgraded it. More strength, more healing factor, more of everything that is needed. The Asset takes way to long to recover from punishments.”

  
“The Asset?” She questioned. She had been wondering for a while, never before quite daring to speak up.

  
“The original survivor of the Winter Soldier Project.” He smiled, once again, proudly smiling. “Once you complete your training, my darling, you shall take a place beside him. As his Assistant. Other than that, you shall be referred to as the Companion.” His hand moved to her hair, and she hated how she

instinctively leaned towards the touch. Howard and her mother had always run their hands through her hair, and she loved it. The Doctor smiled in a pleased way at her reaction. “You shall continue Phase Two with me, until I deem you ready for Phase Three and the meeting of your handler.”

  
And so, it did. For weeks on end she suffered the words of the Doctor. Until she learned to seek refuge in those words as they were the only thing grounding her to that moment. He caressed her hair as he called her all kind of diminishing names and words, destroying every bit of her confidence until she was bare, and he could build her up again. And how beautifully did he build her again, from shattered pieces and new ones he carved out of the thin straps around her mind and heart, holding her in place, grounding her until she was ready for Phase Three and her handler. She wished soon she wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update. Funnn.


	3. The Chair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a bit longer.
> 
> I'll give a warning for mind washing for this chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_1948, New York, Hydra Base_

The heels clicked on the floor of the cold and barren looking base. The woman was carrying a file, important, need-to-know information she had to take to her superiors. She had been warned quite brutally to not look in the file or risk facing a bullet in her skull- though she was almost sure about what the file was about. Everything regarding the Companion was almost all she knew. The woman had studied and listened, learned everything there was to know about the young woman they had taken. She wished to help her, but she had to worry about other people first, before even giving her a thought.

She knocked on the door and stepped inside when one of the guards opened it.

“Ah, Mrs. Winfrell, I was waiting on your arrival.” The man sitting behind the table told her. It was a rare occurrence to not see him ranting on about. “I hope you have what I wanted. Or have those fools once again failed me?”

“Uh, no, sir.” She gulped and breathed deeply. “Here, if you will take it.” She handed the file and the dark-haired man nodded once.

“Thank you, Mrs. Winfrell.” He pondered for a moment. “I got word from Moscow. They’re ready to move the Companion. I was hoping that you’d go with them. I believe you are in place of a raise.”

“Sir?” She questioned. The woman hoped it was not what she thought it would be.

“I want you there. Help the Companion settle. The Doctor was asking for you to be at his side when Phase Three was green light.” He rubbed his hands together. “The Companion has been given green light a week ago, but seeing as you were not here, he wished not to start it yet. They’ve kept her under heavy sedation until then, so she won’t know of a break from her training.”

“I- of course.” She nodded at him and started to turn towards the door, before coming to other thoughts and turning back towards the base leader. “Are we leaving, when exactly?”

The leader smiled at her, “Tomorrow morning. I suggest you pack your bags and tell your family goodbye for a while. I don’t know if the Companion will be coming back to America at all.”

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” She smiled in a hopefully convincing way. This was far from what she wanted, but she knew better than to turn it down. She hurried out the door and towards her chambers, cursing everything to hell inside her head. She wished to stay as far from the Companion as possible. She knew she was attached to her. It. Goddammit. She needed to get her head straight.

* * *

_1948, Moscow, Hydra Main Base_

Toni walked quietly besides the Doctor. She didn’t know where she was. They’d gotten on a plane back in New York and she hadn’t known where it was heading to. All she knew was that it had taken a long time and she was immensely tired. She couldn’t sleep on the plane. Her nervousness was basically jumping off the walls. Despite her being ready for Phase Three, she knew she couldn’t trust these people and had to get away. The problem was she didn’t know where she was. And she was sure she wasn’t in America anymore.

They had driven in a windowless (or at least the part of the car she was in was windowless) car for hours. Until they had stopped, and she was stabbed once again with a needle, soon falling asleep. And now she was here, a bustling base- surprise, surprise- though lacking in furniture and full of colourless concrete walls. She was being escorted by the Doctor and three guards- they didn’t trust her at all, did they? It wasn’t long since coming inside that they came across the elevator (-ish?) machine. They went down at least nine levels before stopping, the rattling cage quieting down and stopping with a screech. Two sets of doors opened and a long corridor with steps leading up to a higher point. She was directed to the left, through a metal door to a corridor of doors. Then into a metallic door on the right side of the room. It was the third door, labeled товарищ/Aссистент (Companion/Assistant).

She walked in, but the Doctor nor any of the guards followed her. She turned and looked at them. “You should rest. Phase Three will start tomorrow morning. After you complete Phase Three, I’ll take care of you.” His smile made her believe that “taking care of her” would be not any caretaking she was familiar with.

“And my… handler, was it?” She questioned. She wasn’t sure what Phase Three would be, but a handler didn’t sound right in her ears. She needed to get out and she needed to be out yesterday.

“Apparently that task lies now on my shoulders.” He simply said, not bothering to elaborate. It only made her feel worse about tomorrow and whatever horrors she might face. The Doctor nodded once and one of the guards- she now realized they were for the Doctor- slammed the metal door closed. She heard a clank and assumed that meant it was locked now. She didn’t hear any echo of steps, but she hadn’t expected to.

The room followed the same style as the rest of the base. Bare and made complete of concrete, even the floor, and very, very cold. There was a bed- if you could call it that- in one of the corners. And a wardrobe next to the door. Curiously she opened the wardrobe door and found it empty, except for one grey-greenish blanket. The texture was rough and uncomfortable, Toni couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the material. Where they got all this unbearably uncomfortable items, she had no clue.

She took the blanket- well, more like sandpaper- and took it to the bed-like thing. It didn’t have a pillow or any sheets, but she guessed she could make do. Better than the floor anyway, right? She looked around in the dull room once again, this time noticing the camera in one of the corners- of course, why would there not be a camera. She huffed in irritation. Fuckers wouldn’t trust her to not do anything. She had to give it to them, they were quite smart about the whole situation so far. Toni had no idea where she was and how to get out. There were guards and scientists around every corner and crevice.

She realized with a start that she didn’t even know how long she had been captured for- Howard. Oh, dear God, poor Howard. Not only had he lost one of his good friends in the war, he’d also lost Steve and now his sister. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. Howard barely knew how to live before everything went to shit, how would he fare now? She knew he wasn’t hopeless, and he was almost as smart as her, but Toni couldn’t help but worry for her brother. Being intelligent and smart didn’t mean either of them knew how to take care of themselves. Taking a deep calming breath, she sat on the edge of the bed and dropped her head in her hands.

_This was really happening._

 

* * *

The next morning came bright and early. The woman dressed in a black dress- as she always was- walked towards the room of the young woman. Stark was sitting on the bed, lost in her thoughts. The woman nodded to the guards and they opened the door for her. As she slipped in, she also slipped on her mask, a cool expression hiding everything she felt. Once the door was closed, Stark’s head rose, slowly.

The woman tightened her grip on the file and finally looked into Star- the Companion’s eyes. And it was almost like she forgot how to breathe. An exact match to her six-year-old daughter’s eyes. The same shade of brown, though her daughter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree whereas the other pair looked dull and pained.

“Товарищ.” The woman addressed her- it- by its new name. The young woman tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. And it suddenly hit her. She wouldn’t know Russian. She wasn’t even near Phase 5. But her direct orders were to only talk to her in Russian. “Вы следовать мной.”

Despite not knowing the language, the Companion could obviously guess what she meant. The Doctor had informed her of the happenings that would take place in the morning after all. St- It rose from the bed and stepped closer to the woman. “Стоп!” The dark dressed woman shouted in almost panic. Stark stopped immediately. “Вы следовать мной но остаетесь запредохранителями. Не придите около меня, ребенка.” (You will follow me but stay behind the guards. Do not come near me, child.) Momentarily forgetting that all of that would go over her head, the woman turned to leave expecting her to follow. When no such thing happened, anger and fear surged through the woman. “Follow.” She ordered in perfect English. The young woman followed her, sluggishly but followed, nonetheless.

They walked through the corridors and the closer they got, the more afraid the woman became. She knew what would happen next, knew her to lose all her memories. Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed open the doors leading to the chair. The large open room was filled with machinery, advanced and old mixed together to create a terrifying chair in the middle of the room. The woman turned towards the Doctor and flicked her hand towards the guards, who immediately complying took hold of Stark.

“Господин, я принес ее.” (Sir, I brought her) At her words the Doctor turned, a menacing grin finding its place on his face. He effortlessly glided towards the young woman held by her arms. Stark hadn’t yet lost her fire, as she glared into his eyes, defiance clear.

“Ah, my дорогой, welcome to your new second home.” He grinned at her, baring his teeth. His hand caressed her cheek and she trashed in the hold of the guards. He took hold of her neck and bend down to her face. “See that?” He pointed towards the Chair. Stark’s eyes flicked to the Chair and back to his face. “It’s one of my innovations actually. It’s unfairly efficient. We’ll keep you in it for 30 minutes, then talk a little. After that an hour. Slowly increasing it, until you learn what we want you to learn. Don’t worry, we have all day and night all to ourselves. Asset is currently enjoying some well-earned sleep.”

The woman saw Stark’s eyes open wide with fear. “What does it do? The Chair?” The Doctor suddenly erupted in a high pitched, hyena like laughter. The woman couldn’t help but cringe.

“You’ll find out soon enough, моя марионетка.” He flicked his hand and without a word the guards dragged the trashing young woman into the Chair. They put her in the chair and held her still as the various doctors and technicians worked to strap her in. The Doctor looked annoyed at the resistance. “My darling, I thought you trusted me with your worthless self.”

“I trust you with nothing!” Stark yelled as she trashed in the chair. “You do this, and nothing will stop me from tearing you all apart once I get free!” She fiercely spat the words towards the Doctor and in a split second he was moving. Next the woman knew the Doctor was seething above the girl, his hand still raised, her cheek coloured with a hand print.

“Worked yourself some courage and defiance over the night, didn’t you?” He seethed into her face while holding her chin in a harsh grip. “I guess I shouldn’t have left you that carelessly all alone with your pretty little head.” He threw her face to the side and pulled himself upright, turned and stomped all the way up to the platform where the control panel was. “I want this over with and I want it now! Start Phase Three.”

“Но нет попирание плохая черта, которыйнужно выйти под обработку?” (But isn’t defiance a bad trait to be left under the treatment?) The woman asked with curiosity.

“Я делал все я могу разрушить ее попирание. Если это не делает его, то мы не имеемникакую пользу для ее.” (I have done all I can to destroy her defiance. If this doesn’t work, we have no use for her.) The Doctor grits out and motions for the man handling the controls to start. His fingers fly on the buttons and soon the spiky straps that lead the electricity cover her forearms and place themselves around her head. Another doctor puts a biting strap into her mouth and then the screams start as electricity pushes itself around her fragile body.

As thirty minutes pass, it all stops, and the Doctor simply asks Stark who she is and what is her purpose.

When she answers incorrectly, the Doctor furiously slaps her and slides a knife up her arm, making it bleed.

“Вы товарищ, ваш полет помочь имуществу ипозволить гидре контролировать вас. Выответите:  я готов отвечать и сделайте все и все мы говорим, что вы делаете. Отсутствие спрошенныхвопросов!” (You are the Companion; your mission is to assist the Asset and allow Hydra to control you. You will answer: Ready to comply and do everything and all we tell you to do. No questions asked!)

It continues the same way until almost twelve hours later, she- it says the right thing.

“я готов отвечать.” (Ready to comply.)

And the Companion is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian is hopefully grammar correct. If not, or you found something in there that missed my eye (and Word's) lemme know!


	4. Fall into The Ranks of Satan

_1949, Russia_

_“In an unfortunate event involving Natasha Antonia Stark and a few fellow scientists, has led to the death of the young and brilliant woman. On February 21 st, the young Stark was searching old Hydra technology and reportedly the room she was in was blasted with bright light before a dust cloud fell as the room crumbled on itself. In hopes of saving the young woman, it was found that she had been crushed under the rubble. (The following picture is of the crumbled building Ms. Stark was working in)_

_However, many have reported that Ms. Stark has not been seen in the public eye since March 19 th, 1947. Howard Stark answers to these claims that the hero America knows as Captain America had been a close friend of Natasha Stark. Many however speculate that the woman had disappeared for largely deeper personal reasons and had located in another country, somewhere up North. But as of February 24th, Ms. Natasha Antonia Stark has been announced dead. Shall the Gods rest her soul and for the world to mourn this beautiful and brilliant woman.”_

* * *

“Sir?” Mrs. Winfrell inquired. The newspaper rested in her hands, and her superiors had seemed delighted today. This would explain why.

“This a brilliant day! We are much closer to our goal than we were yesterday.” The Doctor rubbed his hands together, the act of a maniac. “Howard’s making our job so much easier. I was beginning to worry.”

The room they were in didn’t differ much from any of the other ones. Simply an observatory room. But the woman knew it wasn’t just a room. No room in the Hydra base was just a room. It was blank. The walls an ugly beige, made purely of concrete. Floor very much the same. The room held a chilling air to it (most of the base had that actually), and even though there were more than five people in it, Mrs. Winfrell couldn’t stop the chill that travelled through her body every so often. The dark glass that separated the rooms would appear as a mirror on the other side. Not that the people on the other side seemed much caring of anything at all. Which would make sense as emotions were a weakness. And these people were trained- or training to be- ruthless murderers that held no emotions.

“She seems to fair well with any gun we give her.” She felt the need to point out. “Even those that our best men have difficulty of grasping.” Mrs. Winfrell turned her head ever so slightly towards the Doctor.

“Yes. Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less considering in what a world she grew up in.” The Doctor smiled in supposedly a pleasing way. The smile caused all kinds of emotions in her, many of which she would be shot without questions, if they were brought out into knowledge of her officers. “She grew up in a house old that created weapons for the US army. If I am not incorrect, she was close friends with that Margaret Carter woman.”

“The one Zola is working with?” Mrs. Winfrell was a curious creature by nature, she’d ‘serve to be shot for it had anyone other than the Doctor been next to her, securing her spot.

“The very same.” The Doctor suddenly laughed. “To think that Howard is very close to his sister, yet so far, blinded by grief and pride I expect.”

“Yes. If he was even capable of loving his sister.” Mrs. Winfrell knew that Howard had loved his sister very much. But to keep up appearances, she’d pretend she knew nothing of that sort. She trained her eyes on the young woman (girl, bah, she was 18 for goodness gracious), who hit every shot on every single target she was given. Even when her back was to it, she still hit each mark on either the center of their head or directly at their heart.

“Ah, look.” The Doctor pointed towards the young woman. His voice had a tone of pride to it. “How I have excelled! Even the Asset wasn’t this quick at picking anything up, I knew Zola’s method was worthless anyway.” And Mrs. Winfrell realized with a start that the pride wasn’t directed at the young woman, but at the Doctor himself. He was proud of how he had destroyed a beautiful flower.

Suddenly Mrs. Winfrell didn’t know whether to throw up or be impressed. The man was appalling and horrifyingly brilliant. He had broken the girl sooner than expected. The Asset had just finished his Stage 5 and was mission ready, been in their care since 1944. Whereas the Companion had just reached Stage 4 and was almost done with it. She’d been in the Doctor’s lonesome care for three years less than what the Asset had been. And her skills were almost as impressive as the Asset’s.

His military training had served him well in their care, but the Companion had a completely unique fighting style. It was entrancing to watch. She moved as if in a trance with cat like movement. Mrs. Winfrell had always been sure that if the Companion had a tail, it’s be swishing like a cat pondering its next big move. It was entrancing and terrifying. They hadn’t yet even given her hand-to-hand combat training. Mrs. Winfrell was sure that if they did, she’d be a force to recon with. The Companion seemed to like chasing her victims and playing with her food a bit before giving the last strike.

The Companion would completely seduce her target. Even the harshest of their men, who had sworn off women altogether seemed completely entranced and often seemed to forget what they were even doing if she would be in the ring or even in the same room. The effect was at it’s highest when the Companion was a touch away from her opponents.

“You have made a deadly weapon with untold possibilities. It’s as admirable as it is unsafe. She calculates all of us, within seconds of stepping into the room she knows all our weak spots. If we’d let her, I believe she would take us all down within mere minutes- if not seconds.” Mrs. Winfrell knew that pointing this out to the Doctor could possibly cost her her own life. But she couldn’t help but let her skepticism run free.

“If she dared, I’m sure she’d turn on us. But she hasn’t been presented with anything better, so she will not know of freedom. She only knows and trusts the pain around her. Keeping her grounded is a sure way to ensure this.” The Doctor smiled a menacing smile before turning towards Mrs. Winfrell. “And if she decides to act out, all we need is the Chair and a few words, yes?” The woman hummed, before shifting her focus back to the Companion.

“Is there a date yet, for her to meet the Asset?” She questions. “I’m sure they both would like to play with each other.” She laughed, her voice sounding cold and emotionless even to her own ears. She couldn’t help but cringe inwardly.

"Not yet. In a few years I suppose."

When had she lost direction?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a much more of a filler chapter than a real one. A small glimpse of Toni through the eyes of Mrs. Winfrell. Also a bit more information why Toni is such a promising asset to Hydra.
> 
> Part one is quickly drawing to a close. I suspect two or three more chapters, which will skip time a lot more. Once we get to part two things are gonna get quite angsty and quick.
> 
> I apologize for the pause in updates. It's gonna slow a bit down since until summer Imma have a bit of work over my head that I need to focus on in my final year. Also sorry for the shortness of this one :(
> 
> // All comments are welcome. Any possible constructive criticism or something quite not matching previous chapters? Lemme know! It helps me grow as a writer.


	5. Of All the Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Companion and the Asset through the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has descriptions of violence.
> 
> Might have fluff-ish content?

_Early 1960’s, America_

The day had been unbearably bright. The sun was still high, up in the sky and glared threateningly against all the mortal beings on this planet. There were people- mostly men- clearing through a barricade of young and old people. It was quite the sight. Thousands of people all scattering around a stage, just barely able to get a glimpse of anything besides those around them. Some shorter ones were sitting on shoulders waving American flags in joy as the car rolled towards the stage area.

It wasn’t that unusual. Usually anything involving the 35th American president caused commotion. Not that it was important who was on the receiving end of this mission, it reminded itself. _Surviving_ is Its main priority. _Missions_ would have to come second. It was a dangerous way of thinking, but then again everything about the Companion was dangerous. Its handlers knew better than to aggravate It. It had bitten off someone’s finger when they’d gotten too close. It hadn’t known that It wasn’t allowed to protect itself against other than handlers trying to hurt It.

_(It had been later cleared that unless it was a mission, It would have to endure everything and be willing to take the punishment.)_

Besides the Companion the Asset was growing restless. The mission was dragging out for far too long. Report was expected in t-minus 4 hours. Getting to the drop off point was hard enough in under 4 hours, but the protection detail the President had was growing antsy. They were expecting something to go wrong. It wasn’t very unusual. Assassination of leaders wasn’t uncommon in these ages. The Companion had at least three under Its belt. If that was even near the real number.

It wasn’t sure since It couldn’t remember many things. After a mission it was report and then the Chair. After that It would be put into a tube that froze _(It didn’t know what they were called. Information was not freely given.)_ Once woken up, the Chair again. The Companion couldn’t stop the shudder that tremored through Its body. The Asset sneaked a glance at It. An unknown emotion _(worry?)_ passed through the Asset’s eyes, until the blank canvas fell upon them again.

Soon enough the cheering began, and both weapons focused on the scene before them. “Ждите до тех пор пока президент не будетнаходиться на этапе и говорил в течение некоторого времени.” (Wait until the President is at the stage and has spoken for some time.) The Asset instructed. The Companion was instructed to handle the assassination part. The Asset there to only be as backup and possibly complete the mission if It were to fail.

_(It’d been outraged to find out about this, but It wouldn’t show it.)_

“Я умею как сделать его!” (I know how to do it!) It hissed, poison in Its voice. It had a greatly more higher success rate on Its mission than, the Asset had on its own. It also had experience in killing a monarch. It grumbled under Its breath in Russian before taking Its 6.5×52mm Carcano Model 91/38 with a telescopic sight and setting it over the window sill of the old motel they were inside of.

The still intact window gave great coverage against the watchful eyes of the henchmen. The glint that the sun would shine from the scope would greatly enough seem like the window was the one glinting the light back.

It took only minutes for the speech to begin. It set up the rifle nicely to a spot the President would eventually move to and took to waiting. Once It had counted to 1047 the President moved to the promised spot and It took the chance. The bullet shattered the glass as it went through it, only a millisecond later had the bullet ebbed itself in the middle of the Presidents head. A second passed till chaos ensued. A manic grin split Its face, but as quick as it had appeared there it was gone.

Not wasting a second more, It grabbed the rifle and Its stuff. Soon the two were gliding across the hallway and jumping out the window, disappearing like smoke.

The whole of America left behind trying to comprehend what had happened.

 

* * *

 

_Late 1960’s, Southern Europe_

Another ruler, a threat to Its handlers, dead. Another monarch fallen to the hands of Hydra. This time It was allowed to get Its hands dirty. Feel the knife drive itself into the monarch’s chest.

The world had started calling the Asset the Winter Soldier and the Companion the Winter Flower.

But to each other they were the solace they found in each other in the middle of the pain they lived in. They were only Яша (Yasha) and Ната́ша (Natasha) to each other. They were only star-crossed lovers doomed from the very beginning. Doomed to fall in love. Doomed to rain hell together. Doomed to drown the world in blood.

Together they felt… like people. Like they had a purpose beyond being a weapon. Like- like they were meant for more.

Their love shined when they murdered together. The death of a person brought them close and they thrived in killing others as it gave them time. Time to be together. Time to love. Time to be themselves.

But there were times, like now, when the Companion couldn’t bring Itself to remember. There was a constant nagging in Its head. Couldn’t… remember. Who-? The thought dying as a bullet pierced Its leg. With a wince mixed with a growl It threw the body- long dead by now- to the ground and prepared for the fight. In the door way a fair skinned woman stood, shaking all over. Once her eyes moved to Its face, her mouth dropped open in shock, disbelief fanning in her eyes.

“Natasha!” The woman screeched. Its mouth turned down in displeasure. It was the American version of her name, but how would this woman know it. It was only trusted to one person- who? “Natasha! Stop! You’re still stuck there? Oh darling.”

There was familiarity in the woman’s voice. It couldn’t know where It knew it from, but it was familiar.

“Natasha. Listen.” The woman tried again. Suddenly a glint showed in the woman’s eyes. Determination. “Товарищ.” The sudden shock of pain was more than enough to urge It to attack. The knife flipped in Its hands and suddenly it was flying through the air, connecting with the woman’s neck. A splutter came from her mouth as she fell from the shock.

“Не используйте те слова!” (Do not use those words!) It hissed as It loomed over the woman’s dying body. The pain of the wound was causing the woman’s eyes to lull closed. “Не пока!” It hissed again and slapped the woman. Her eyes flew open and fear was cascading from the depths, hiding something else under them.

It rose and stepped a few steps back. “Кто вы?” (Who are you?) the Companion demanded. The woman glanced at the papers laying on the ground all around them. It walked to the one the woman was staring at. Picking it up It read, “Госпожа Winfrell, ассистент доктора втренировке товарища.” (Mrs. Winfrell, assistant of the Doctor in training of the Companion.) Its throat closed and suddenly everything felt too closely knitted. “То было вами?” (That was you?) It asked in a very low voice. It had a hidden undertone that the woman wouldn’t pick, but the Companion knew the thrumming of bloodthirst in Its veins better than anyone. The woman’s nod was slow and meaning.

It clenched Its jaw, before walking back to the woman. Slowly It put It’s hand on the handle of the knife embedded in her throat. Rage filled Its being, and with careful precision It removed the knife. The all familiar manic, bloodthirsty grin taking place on Its face. It watched with barely hidden glee as the woman, one of the people plausible to her pain, received their end.

It was a pity the Doctor had tied far too fairly.

 

* * *

 

_1970’s, Unknown Location, Siberia_

The first time the Winter Soldier and the Winter Flower had escaped the claws of Hydra, it was purely for their greedy souls wanting together time. The abandoned cottage in the middle of Siberia wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but it was their world for the time of their escape. The cottage wasn’t that far from the base they were currently housing them both in. If they would come looking, they’d easily find them both.

“How long do you think we have left?” the Winter Flower asked. Every minute, every second was causing their time to run out and they both knew it was only a matter of time before they were captured. And quickly wiped too. The doctors and scientists of Hydra were becoming frustrated as the wipes were becoming inefficient as time passed. Either of the two murderers couldn’t last more than a few days, three at maximum before the programming started to fall apart. During those times they both liked to find solace in each other. Forbidden it was, but they hadn’t ever figured out why it was all falling apart.

“Don’t think like that.” The Winter Soldier soothed her. He ran his metallic fingers across her cheek as they lay upon the bear rug beneath them, naked bodies tangled together. His slight grimace didn’t go missed by the Winter Flowers always watching eyes. Carefully she touched his metallic wrist, the question clear in her eyes. “It’s fine.”

“It is hurting you.” The accusation clear in her tone as she began slowly breaking the arm apart under her skilled fingers. “Where?”

“Stop.”

Needing only one word she stills. While she knew better than to let anyone else try and fix the arm, she’d never go against his wishes.

“Why?” He asked gently. She already knew what he won’t word into the question and started tracing patterns on his wrist, equations and objects. The silence stretched between them, not making the air awkward but instead a comfortable one.

“If you could choose,” she began, and he shifted at her serious tone, “what would you have me call you?”

“We don’t have choices, _moy tsvitochik_ , you know this.” The Winter Soldier breathed hard. It wasn’t unusual. In these moments, she would act like a young child reaching, grasping for anything to hold onto. She wasn’t as strong as he was. She wasn’t good at denying things, obeying. She liked to think it was because of how she was prior to all these horrors.

“But if we did?” She insisted, and he had to truly breathe for a moment. It was a beautiful thought, but that was all it was. He supposed he should give her this.

“I have thought about it.” He paused for a moment, gathering his non-loyal thoughts. “Яша” He eventually said.

“It’s beautiful.” He thought of her as a wishful child. It didn’t lessen his endearment with her.

“Do you have one?”

“It’s a forbidden thought.” She pondered. “We are weapons, not people. We don’t have choices, we don’t deserve choices. _He_ used to say that.” He wished to know who _he_ is. _He’d_ hurt her, made her this way. “Yet here we are. Together. By our own choice. Discussing choices. Could he have been wrong?”

His silence doesn’t answer her question. There isn’t an answer. How could there be? They truly were nothing but weapons in the hands of Hydra. They were to do as they pleased as there wasn’t anyone up for resisting them.

Suddenly he shoved his metal arm towards her. The Winter Flowers eyes snapped to his, looking at him through thick lashes. The whiskey brown made his heart soar. Without a word from either she started to work on his arm. Taking apart the panels, she looked inside the arm finding the issue in mere minutes.

“The wires are touching your edges and twisting around the wrist. Eventually they’d have snapped if you kept moving your fingers or wrist.” She always spoke while working on his arm. It soothed them both, giving them both a world of their own, even if only for a few minutes. “Be more careful, _Yasha_.”

A shudder ran through his body and he couldn’t help his eyes sliding shut at the use of his- _his! -_ name. “Tell me yours.” He ordered in a hoarse voice.

The silent whisper rang through the small space, hanging between them like a dear held secret on a summer day between lovers.

“Ната́ша.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rifle described in this is actually the one used to kill JFK. While JFK's death in Canon was confirmed to be of the Winter Soldiers work, I wanted to change it a bit.
> 
> This chapter is kind of all over the place and I would've loved to expand this more, but for the sake of the story this has been cut short. Next up will be a quite significant time jump and while this chapter had a fluffy ending, the next one will kinda be only angst.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	6. Save Me From Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian in this chapter is in English, since I was too lazy to translate it.

_Early 1990’s, The Red Room_

The young girls dashed across the dimly lit room in hopes of keeping to the music that played loudly. While the melody was soothing, it appeared that the girls were anything but. Many faces were twisted in pain. It was expected, they had been dancing for hours. Yet only one girl, hair fire engine red, kept her face impassive, not willing -or unable- to feel anything. Her movements were cold and left The Winter Flower feeling like it was watching ice claim warm waters. Despite that it was intrigued by the young girl.

“Faster.” Madame B’s voice rang through the room and with one word the whole room spurred to a faster speed in order to survive. One of the girls, a blonde, was breathing hard and unable to keep up with the others’ speed. A sliver of pity ignited in The Winter Flower.

The ballet was as beautiful as a dead body bleeding out in the middle of winter. It made The Winter Flower want to flee, but that would ensure a punishment. Unfortunately, in Hydra lending it to the KGB the deal never contained in what condition it were to be returned to her handlers, only that it were to be alive.

Suddenly the blonde crashed. No-one stopped. They were very well aware of what were to happen if they did. Madame B clicked her tongue and it was moving. Few long strides and it had the girl supported up by her armpit. “Dispose her.”

With a nod it left the room. The young girl was trashing in its hold. “Please! Please don’t!” The blond yelled in despair, “I promise I’ll be better!” Disappointment and disgust arose in it as the blond girl started screeching and crying. Wasn’t it enough it had to do this? Did she have to struggle too?

Heaving a sigh, it tossed the blonde inside the room. She stumbled and landed on the floor in a starfish like position. The Winter Flower barely held back its snort. It was amusing how _weak_ some of these girls were despite growing up in The Red Room. It knew now wasn’t a time to play games and honestly, it didn’t even want to. Taking out the 9mm pistol it always carried, it weighted the gun in its hands before firing a single shot. It rang through the small lightless room. For good measure it shot the girl again to make sure she wouldn’t get up and live. Disobeying was bad enough, but to actually fail to complete what it was asked to do? Madame B would single handedly murder it, if its handlers wouldn’t.

Just to make sure she was really dead, it held its fingers by the blond’s pulse point. When it didn’t find anything, it headed for the door, only to stop short at the sight of the red headed girl. Her head was tilted curiously. “ _Why did you kill her?_ ” the girl, not older than 15, asked. Her Russian was pronounced without care, but it was her curiosity that puzzled The Winter Flower.

“ _You know why._ ” It drawled back. The red head’s face betrayed no emotion, though her eyes seemed to flash with irritation, long enough for it to detect.

“ _No, I know why she had to die. What I’m asking is why did_ you _kill her?_ ” The Winter Flower paused. The question seemed to confuse it. Did it not have to kill the blond girl? Did it mistake Madame B’s orders?

“ _I don’t understand_ ,” it replied, confusion and panic seeping into its voice.

“ _I guessed you wouldn’t_.” And that was it.

As years passed inside The Red Room and the red head, Natalia progressed without problem, both The Winter Flower and Natalia grew closer. Never could it answer her question and never did Natalia ask again.

As the century was drawing to a close, The Winter Flower was returned to Hydra.

It never saw Natalia again, and on the rare occasion it remembered the calculating red head a terrible feeling of loss overtook it, making it wish Natalia Romanova was alright, where ever she might be.

 

* * *

 

_1998, NYC, America_

A puff of cold air sprung free from the man’s lungs as he moved through Central Park, occasionally hiding in the shadows. It had been a few years since his escape, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling he was watched and followed every time he so much as stepped outside. He supposed it was quite possible, with all the traffic cameras surrounding almost every corner you could turn. New York City was a bad place to hide, but he knew that would also make his captors less likely to look there.

He was moving towards the building where his old buddy was currently living in. Though he had no recollection of what had happened between them in the past, he knew they were close by the small memory snippets that had appeared over time. In those memories, as hazy as they were, he had been a constant.

As soon as it had come to his attention about two and a half years ago, he had felt something shift. His mind was all jumbled, but he hoped he could get help through his old best friend. He hoped they would find what they once had. He also wished to help the woman in his dreams. He couldn’t quite identify who she was, only a name whispered in a night of comfort and love came to his mind.

 _Natasha_.

He didn’t know was this woman alive still, but his dreams had conjured up her in the goddamn awful Chair. It would make him lose his mind completely as he slipped into The Winter Soldier mode, as he’d take to calling it. Sometimes -though it was lessening as he became more lucid- he would slip into that mode, waking up days later not knowing who he’d hurt or what had happened. It was a hellish nightmare.

So that was why he was here, standing in front of the SHIELD apartment where Steve Rogers lived in. He hoped Steve really was here and not on some SHIELD mission. As quick as that thought came, a clear picture of a skinny blonde boy arguing with him about going to war appeared. James barely held back his gasp at the pain that followed. Suddenly it seemed like a bad idea to even be in the vicinity of him. That doubt disappeared immediately as he realized this was the clearest memory he has had in years.

Falling back on old training, James slipped into the building, keeping his ears and eyes carefully open. His watchful eyes flickered back and forth on ever single detail he could get. The lobby was painted a washed-out light blue. It wasn’t as in-your-face as one would expect. The bland and colourless deco complimented the bright walls nicely. And while there was a bunch of sofas and chairs in one of the corners, they seemed a bit dusty like no-one had sat there in a while. Suspicion flared and James’ hand slipped into his pocket to grab the trusty knife he’d had for years, if not decades. He strained his ears, hoping to hear something. When nothing was there to be heard, he continued towards the lift.

His left metallic hand hovered over the call button. Quickly deciding that the stairs were safer, incase of ambush, he headed to the other side of the room towards the stairwell. His neck prickled at the silence. It was unnerving. Silent as a ghost, he trudged up the stairs.

Steve’s apartment was on the third floor. The second floor would not be a place where he would linger for long. Despite being silent, he moved as quick as lightning. On the right side of the stairs was three doors. The silent and empty corridor had hairs on his arms standing up. He quickly stalked towards the doors. The door on the right and closest to the stairs had light music coming from inside. The door on the left remained silent. And the middle door, Steve’s door, was silent as well.

Knowing the dangers of knocking on his door, James quietly slipped out his knife, taking out the hair pin that was hidden in the handle. As quiet as possible, he slowly started to feel out the lock. In seconds he had the door unlocked. By now he was quite sure Steve knew that someone was breaking into his apartment.

The door opened with a slight screech that made James grimace. He could hear deep concentrated breathing, he could hear Steve. Cursing his stupidity of coming here when he was home. He stepped inside and like he expected, the shield was flying towards him. He quickly turned to the side, his hair slapping into his face, and grabbed the shield with his metallic arm. The clank rang through the apartment and corridor. He grinned at Steve and could hear how he stopped breathing.

_“Bucky?”_

“Guess, I should’ve knocked.”

 

*

 

Hours and many explanations later, Steve was still staring at James like he was seeing a ghost. He supposed he was one. All Steve had known was that he had died in the Alps in the forties. It was quite sad to see Steve reaching for Bucky, when all he could give him was James. He understood it. For Steve it had been only a couple of years, but for him it had been more than 50 years. James knew he understood that there was no more of ‘Bucky’, but had a hard time realizing what it actually meant.

“I-uh,” Steve stumbled over his words in the living room they were sitting in. James turned towards him, his question clear in his eyes. Steve’s eyes suddenly glinted with unshed tears and he seemed to choke on his words. It regarded James with surprise. He had never seen his best friend so pained. “They told me-” Steve’s tears flowed down his cheeks and the ragged breath he took in made James almost flinch.

Quickly, he scampered up from his seat across from Steve and took the shivering man into his arms. “I thought I had lost you, too!” Steve suddenly cried out, and this time he flinched from the loudness by his ear. Nevertheless, he didn’t take his arms away from the hug as the blonde clinged to him. After what felt like hours, Steve lessened his deathly grip on James and dragged his sleeves across his face. He muttered an, “I’m sorry,” before he released him completely.

“What on earth are you sorry for, you punk?” James asked him in a quite murmur. Steve’s eyes grew unfocused for a moment, before he smiled at his old friend.

“For breaking apart like that. I just- ah, remembered something I found out.” Steve smiled a self-decrepitating smile. It soon turned into a grimace.

“You wanna tell me what it was?” James asked carefully, stepping back to stare at his friend. The blonde’s face went through a bath of emotions, before settling on a horribly broken look.

“It’s ah, it’s about Natasha.” Steve finally said, although very carefully. The name launched an assault of images of cold nights with soft voices and naked bodies, of gruesome murders and painful punishments, the image of screaming, hot and pain- Like doused with cold water, James’ head arose from the assault.

After a while of calming himself down and placing a carefully constructed mask of curiosity, he asked, “Natasha who?” Steve’s eyes grew stormy and his eyebrows pinched together, like he was disappointed that James wouldn’t remember.

“My Natasha. Stark? Natasha Antonia Stark?” Steve’s voice was wavering, and he felt worried the blonde would burst into another set of tears. God, Steve’s girlfriend, James suddenly remembered with clarity. She must be in her seventies.

“God,” James breathed out. “I remember her. Is she alright?”

Steve’s eyes glistened again, and his jaw clenched so tight James could hear the screech of his teeth. “She’s dead.” The simple statement made it feel like someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t imagine- oh, Steve. “S-She died in 1949. L-lab accident, a building collapsed on her and her team.”

“Steve,” James breathed out. “God, that’s awful.”

“N-Not only did she have to deal with me being gone and the aftermath of the war, she hadn’t even lived to 25, B-James.” James felt his breathing catch in his throat, and he had to swallow multiple times to rid of the lump in his throat.  “Oh, Howard must’ve been so broken. He l-loved her so much. How couldn’t anyone love that woman?”

Howard Stark, Maria Stark, 1991, December 16th, dispose of Howard, retrieve the serum, kill possible witnesses. _“…Winter Soldier Program reactivated…”_ James hissed at the pain. He couldn’t help but fall to his knees on the hardwood floor. Everything around him went dark for a second, before he startled with a gasp. “Oh, God.”

“Bucky?” Steve asked tentatively. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, God. Steve,” he gasped out. “Oh, God. I killed him!”

A thunderous expression overtook Steve’s features as he grabbed James’ hands. He pulled them away from the painful grip they had on his hair. “James.” The stern voice froze him completely. The only telltale sign of his panic was the harsh breathing. “You might’ve delivered the death sentence, but it wasn’t your choice. You were only protecting yourself, no-one would expect anything less. _It wasn’t you_.”

Oh, how he wanted to believe Steve’s precious words. “But I still did _it_ ,” James hissed as he wrenched himself free and retreated to a corner. Steve continued his thunderous gaze on him, but an understanding dawned upon him. He could understand why James felt the way he did.

It could be compared to what Steve had to go through when he got soldiers killed on the field. He didn’t do all he could. His careful planning only went so far. But for James it was so much worse. It wasn’t his ordering of troops that got them killed, but his very own hands, controlled by the hands of others.

“This is why I came here,” James informed him after minutes of silent glaring. “I need help. Professional help. But not from SHIELD.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t trust them.” James opted for.

“Well, do you trust me?” Steve asked him. Did he _trust_ him? No, James didn’t trust him. It didn’t mean he couldn’t.

“No, I don’t,” he answered truthfully. After a beat he added, “Yet.”

Steve’s smile was slightly bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're nearing the end of Part 1 fast. There'll be probably one more chapter of Part 1. 
> 
> In canon The Winter Soldier is the one in The Red Room. But since he was training the Wolf Spider Program, I think having 'The Winter Flower' apart of the Black Widow Program is much more likely, as I won't be including other programs The Red Room had into this story. 
> 
> As a little clear up, Captain America was fished out of the sea in 1996, and having heard of this multiple times over the course of six months, James broke through the Winter Soldier programming. I'll be having so that James and the Winter Soldier are 2 different people. As well as Natasha and the Winter Flower. 
> 
> Next up is the first meet-up after over 30 years between James and Natasha. And some horrors that happen after that meet-up.
> 
> I'd like to remind that this story is not very canon-compliant, but I will be writing up until the events of Avengers. And that part two will have very much less of time jumps, only playing out over about 5 years of time.


	7. Break Me Free From the Spell

_2002, Siberia_

The whole base shook as the explosion shredded the bottom floors.

Someone had caused an automatic detonation. Despite that the scientists and soldiers ran around the floors, searching for the culprit. Not that they’d find him. Or they would but couldn’t report back. The pile of bodies behind him was growing by the second as the idiots tried to take him on.

James was bored.

They didn’t even put up a good fight. Punch or two and they were out like lights. Apparently, Hydra was slipping in their training. But then again not everyone was a brainwashed super soldier.

A dust cloud fell from the roof every few minutes. The explosions were rising higher by the minute. There were about 15 floors below the surface, a few on top. He had cleaned at least nine by now, though he wasn’t counting. The few people that had been in the base had scattered into forests above long by now. James hoped that Steve and Clint had been able to pick them off. They’d insisted on coming along, though had remained up top per his request.

 Natalie had disappeared somewhere as soon as they’d entered with the promise of getting all the data the base might have. While James had no doubt about her abilities, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with a rogue Black Widow if she decided this wasn’t really her scene anymore.

They’d met Natalie about six months after SHIELD approached James and Steve with a special team. They wanted their help in wiping possible Hydra bases. The bastards were showing up more and more often. It was expected, James had been well aware of the infestation SHIELD had. The team, Avengers -bit much in his opinion-, had been a ‘reward’ for their gracious help. The organization funded and outfitted them.

The four of them weren’t much, but they were all trained spies, killers or military men. They knew how to work around low numbers and low supplies. Steve had always been partially good at strategizing with not having much on his side.

“ _James. I have all the data_ ,” the Widows voice rasped over the comms. “ _Gotta go before we’re all blown to bits_.”

“Yeah, give m’ a minute,” he replied. “There’s cryo chambers here.” James’ realization caused a jolt of panic through him. Cryo chambers were never a good thing. He knew there was a possibility of them being here as the base was one of the largest ones in Russia. He’d been held here once.

“ _Cryo?_ ” Steve’s cry echoed through the comms. “ _Get out of there!_ ”

“You know I have to check this,” James growled back in a low voice. “It could be nothin’. But we won’t know without lookin’.”

“ _It could be not nothing!_ ” Steve’s voice was anguished. “ _What if there’s someone there who is not in cryo?_ ”

“ _Steve. He’s right. It needs to be checked,_ ” Natalie argued back. James knew better than to listen to Steve’s complaints. The blonde seemed to think he hadn’t survived over half a century of torture.

Gun raised high, James stepped into the circle shaped room. The roof was raised high, many floors up. In the middle of the room was a chair. He felt the shiver go through him at the fear and pained the memories arose. He flicked his gaze to the right. He was right.

Three cryo chambers fitted the wall. The wires and tubes rode up the walls, high towards where the command center would be. The three tubes were dark, the panel in front of them showing the tubes had no signs of life. Dead. Possibly for years.

Turning around he found the source of the light hum. One of the three tubes on the left had a yellow light. One of them was _alive_. James exhaled roughly. Slowly walking to wards the tube, he tapped his comm. “The cryo chambers are inactive, except for one.”

“ _Inactive?_ ” Steve questioned incredulously.

“Yeah. The sensors show they’ve died in their sleep,” James answered, an unreadable tone in his voice. “The only one active has been inside since- only 1995.”

“ _I know it’s been a while, but do you recognize them?_ ” Steve’s voice held a tone f understanding. He wasn’t expecting James to know. But he had trained most of the Winter Soldier 2.0’s as Clint referred to them. Despite that he couldn’t help but hesitate for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked from the control panel towards the lonesome tube. He knew the person inside couldn’t wake up without the system being closed. As long as the computer ran so did the tube. And as long as the tube ran so did the never-ending dreamless sleep. The sharp gasp was audible to the rest of the team. Instantly all three were asking what it was.

“Oh, God,” James breathed out. He hadn’t seen her since the 70’s.

“ _James!_ ” Steve shouted to get his attention. “ _Do you recognize them? Are they a threat?_ ”

The Winter Flower was a threat, alright. He knew the extent of her abilities, but he’d believed she’d been dead or escaped. Their first and last moment together as something other than the Asset and the Companion had been brought a tragic ending. She’d been dragged from him upon return, kicking and screaming. She’d killed two of the men trying to take her from him. He’d killed four of the ones holding him back. They’d forced him to watch as they ripped her own free will away in the very chair behind him.

“I-I didn’t know,” James ground out in a broken voice.

“ _James._ ” Clint’s urgent voice rang through his ears and that was enough to raise suspicion. Clint was the one who usually joked through the missions. With a start he realized Clint had barely even spoken. “ _The explosions are going to reach your floor in two minutes, max._ ”

“дерьмо!” James spat out. Snapping out of his thoughts, he rushed to the console. With a few buttons the tube hissed viciously as it opened. He knew it would take a while for her to wake up if not woken up with force. With that in mind he threw her over his shoulder like a rag doll.

 

*

 

“You brought them with you?” Steve asked, his tone slightly higher than normal. His face was twisted in disbelief and anger. Natalia’s face was a closed mask of indifference, but James knew she was reading his every move in a try to understand why he would take a potentially dangerous soldier. Clint was staring at the limp body on his shoulder like it’d bite his head off when touched.

“Steve,” James’ voice is pleading. “I had to.” He doesn’t elaborate, and when the anger starts sliding off Steve’s face at the all too desperate voice, he knows he doesn’t have to.

“You’re in love with her.” The statement startles the three men, the limp woman almost dropping from James’ shoulders. Natalia has crossed her arms over her chest. Steve keeps glancing between James, the limp body and Natalia.

“I-,” James paused, looking for the correct words. “I do. She was with me for forever. I haven’t seen her since- since the 1970’s. We were hiding in these very forests. We wanted to be together-,” he swallowed harshly and shook his head. “They took her when we returned and made me watch how she forgot everything. I thought she’d died or escaped.”

“The Winter Flower and The Winter Soldier,” her words hanged in the air, a thick cloud. “She was at the red room.” James’ head snapped up and he saw Steve shift uneasily. Punk was uncomfortable with all their pasts. “I think she sort of kept my head above the red haze. I returned from one of my missions, only to find her missing in 1995. They called her back when they found you.” She turned towards Steve.

After a beat of silence Steve announced, “we need to head back. They’ll be expecting a report in a few days.” James couldn’t help the rising panic as he whipped towards him.

“We can’t tell them about her,” he shook his head as if to clear it. “Not until we’re sure she can be around people without killing them. I know what it’s like to return and not know where you are.”

Steve nodded and that was it.

“You need help with carrying her? Or maybe get her to a more comfortable position.” Clint suggested. “I mean if I had an ass like that, I would flaunt it and all, but I don’t know how brainwashed assassins feel about that.”

James took a deep breath to stop himself from snapping at Clint, who was obviously only trying to reduce the tension. “Yeah, okay.” When Steve moved forwards to help, he couldn’t help but snap at him, “I got it.”

He rapped his arms around her waist and slipped her down. Her head lolled to rest against his shoulder. Sighing fondly, James slipped his metal arm under her knees and set her arm around his neck, his softer arm supporting her back. When he lifted her up, he heard Steve’s sharp intake of breath. James snapped his head towards Steve only to find an expression of pain and grief. His confusion receded when the blonde whispered a single name, “Natasha.”

Suddenly it all cleared on James. Why she’d felt so confusingly familiar on their first meet, the twinge of guilt when he first kissed her. His beautiful and so deadly Natasha was Steve’s sweet and charming Natasha Antonia Stark. His happiness at finding her disappeared at once on the heartbroken expression.

Steve’s eyes turned towards James and he felt a little breathless at how angry and pained his best friend’s eyes had turned into. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question was breathed out with such betrayal it cut James hard.

“I swear I didn’t know,” he tried. “I didn’t make the connection until you said her name.” He sighed deeply, “you have to understand. When I first met her, we both were just finished with our training. I couldn’t remember anything before the Chair. She had no feeling in her eyes, they were empty.”

Steve was shaking, “this shouldn’t have ever happened. If I hadn’t crashed the plane-“

“You couldn’t have known Hydra would’ve kidnapped her,” Natalia crushed Steve’s thoughts immediately. James didn’t know what to do. “And they probably would’ve kidnapped her either way if they were dedicated.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” Steve shrugged. James knew he was blaming himself. “At least she had you,” Steve admitted, although it seems like he swallowed something foul when saying those words. He was a protective man, who didn’t let anyone take what was his. James looked at the sleeping figure in his arms.

“She’ll be worse off than me,” he said, voice grim. “I had two years before I came to you. She’s been there longer, and she won’t know where she is upon waking up. She might not even recognize _me_.” The thought alone scared James, saying it aloud was like accepting the fact.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her, so she won’t go all crazy Russian assassin on our asses.” Clint commented. They had a past of assassins going all crazy on them. Namely him and Natalia.

“That is the least we can do.”

 

*

 

When the Winter Flower awoke, it didn’t know where it was.

The bed it was laying on was very soft and comfortable. The room was very white. It reminded the assassin of Medical. Had it been badly injured? It couldn’t remember. What was the last mission it was on...?

It rose from the bed while assessing the room. There wasn’t anything sharp it could use if needed defending. Not that there ever had been. But this medical room didn’t feel like those Hydra held up. They were colourless and painful and uncomfortable.

The Winter Flower glanced at the bed. There was a mattress -should there have been one?- and a pillow. The blanket was in a pile on the floor. That wasn’t normal. There should’ve been only a thin strap to hold the patient up. Comfort wasn’t a thing Hydra was known for. So, it wasn’t with its handlers. Being away for a longer time than necessary would end up in severe punishment. Harsh breaths exited its weakened body. Returning would be more difficult than expected. Especially if fighting its captors would be required.

Suddenly the door opened, and the assassin dropped into a defensive crouch. Its intelligent and careful eyes studied the two men who stepped into the room. One was a sturdy blonde, his strength focused mostly to his arms. The other a brunet, he felt familiar to her. Once its eyes caught sight of the metallic hand peeking out from the sleeve, it knew what it was facing. The Winter Soldier wasn’t supposed to be away from Hydra. Or was this blonde his handler?

The Winter Flower rose from its position mechanically and kept its watchful eyes on them. They both were a threat and it didn’t know if it was strength-y enough to take them both on. Especially in this malnourished state. The brunet stepped towards it, and it couldn’t help the warning snarl that left its lips. The shock showed on both their faces, as if not expecting this reaction.

“Natasha,” the brunet’s pleasant voice filled its ears. The involuntary shiver that passed its body made it mad and afraid. What was the Soldier doing to her with a simple word? “You’re safe.”

“Безопасный?” the assassin spat out the word out back at him. It quickly glanced at the blonde whose face was pained. Recognition came to it. Captain America, threat level four. “Где?” (Where?)

“Скажите мне ваше обозначение,” (Tell me your designation.) the brunet seemed to change tactics. It knew it couldn’t disobey a direct order.

“Товарищ,” (The Companion.) it answered. “Общественное имя: Цветок зимы.” (Public name: The Winter Flower.) The blonde shifted anxiously. He didn’t seem to understand the language.

“Do you know me?” The Soldier asked before quickly adding, “answer in English.”

The assassin hesitated for a moment before answering in a thick Russian accent, “The Winter Soldier. Assassin. Fist of Hydra.” The disappointment was clear on both their faces. It wished it wouldn’t be punished for disappointing. “My… partner?” The question hanged in the air. It knew the answer wasn’t complete, but it couldn’t remember.

“Kind of.” The brunet stepped closer to it, “I was your partner and- and your lover.” He glanced uncomfortable at Captain America, who looked like he’d be rather somewhere else. “Do you know him?”

“Captain America, threat level four, eliminate if provoked.” The Winter Flower answered, its voice dull and lifeless. There was no emotion to connect to him, or was there something under the surface? The Soldier raised confusion and need in the assassin. Not sexual, but a need to be closer to him. Had it really been a lover to him? But weren’t lover’s people, not weapons?

The blonde looked pained and reached towards it before quickly snatching his hand back at the Soldiers warning glance. “Your name is Natasha Antonia Stark. You were born in 1925. You worked with Howard Stark, your brother, on the war. You were my-my girlfriend and I-,” the blonde startled at the pained scream that tore through the assassin’s body.

“СТОП!” (stop!) it yelled, the pain and pressure was building in its head. This was wrong. Something was very wrong. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like something was long lost. With a pained growl it threw itself at the blonde, intending on hurting- killing him. The first three punches hit him before arms circled around its wrists. Frustrated scream tore its throat as it flipped in his arms, kicking at his chest to send him tumbling against a wall. The puff of air that escaped his lungs caused a sick satisfaction in it.

The brunet suddenly took hold of its wrist. Its gaze flickered between the metal arm and the Soldiers face. The surprise flickered in his eyes as the four quick punches hit his chest. The Winter Flower threw its elbow at his nose, the sick crunch made him release his grip. But it was back in seconds as he took a hold of it in a strangling hold. It struggled against him.

“You listenin’ to me?” The Winter Soldier whispered in its ear. It tried to twist away from his arms, but the Soldier knew almost all its moves. “Natasha.” He whispered against its ear and it stilled. The name assaulted a flash of images behind its closed eyes, but they were gone as quickly as they came. “I know what is going on in your head. Its all a mess, yeah? Nothing fittin’ where its ‘posed to. I love you, _moy tsvitochik_ _,_ try to remember.”

The term of endearment launched a flash of memories in its- no her, she was a person- head. Flashes of a cold night spent in a tangle of limbs and love, flashes of missions; the seconds after spent stealing forbidden kisses and sharing love. She let out a pained gasp as she sagged against- “Yasha,” the pained and longing whisper forming a circle of safety around her.

“Exactly, _moy liubimaja_.” James caressed her arms, his body fitting against hers perfectly.

“I thought you had left me,” the tortured woman accused him. She hadn’t seen him in forever. “Or died.”

“Never,” he crooned in her ear. She wanted to believe his words. James’ love had always been something she’d held onto like a lifeline. “They found out about us. They made me watch how you forgot. After that I never saw you again.”

She opened her eyes and turned around in his arms. The brunet was smiling lovingly at her, like she had hung up the moon and stars. Her whiskey eyes tried to find false words in his statement, but there were none. There never was. James had never even uttered a word that had been a lie to her.

“Natasha,” the pained whisper of the name had her stiffening in James’ arms. She pushed free and turned to face the super soldier. The sneer returned to her face, her eyes growing cold and lifeless as she stared at the blonde.

“How do you know my name?” She demanded of the broken looking man rising from the floor he’d fallen to. Captain America wasn’t supposed to know anything about her. She’d only told her name to James. Had he told it to the Man Out of Time? She turned her accusing eyes towards him. The brunet lifted his arms up in a show of surrender.

“You were mine once,” the blonde reached his hand towards her, hoping she’d take it. “Natasha. You told me to call you Toni, like everyone else. But I had to respect your mother’s wish to name you Natasha. Even though she too had called you Toni.”

The confusion made her back away from him. The assassin’s eyes flickered to the door for a millisecond before they focused on Captain America’s anguished face. If she wanted to get away from this man that seemed intent to cause a wrecking ball to go off in her head, she’d need to leave. “But I don’t know you or anyone named Toni.”

The blonde stepped towards her, but stopped, hands hovering in the air when she backed away, “Your full name is Natasha Antonia Stark.” The pain started again.

“Steve,” James called in warning. She’d squeezed her eyes shut for a second before she made her mind. She bolted to the left. James’ arms reached out towards her, but she avoided them by moving a bit to the right. Unfortunately, that put her in reaching distance of the Captain. His hand wrapped around her bicep. “Natasha!” James called after her when she wrenched herself free and bolted out the door.

She didn’t know where the exit was, but there was a window at the end of the hall. She glanced around. There was no-one else in the hallway. Huffing, she ran towards the window. The sound of footsteps behind her and the pleading screams of James did nothing to stop her. Just as their hands were about to reach her, she crashed through the window.

And she fell down.

From the 12th floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Steve finally knows who the Winter Flower is. But she doesn't know who Captain America is.  
> Not sure how I feel about her escape from their hands. Honestly wished she would've just stayed, but there is a reason for her impromptu leave. 
> 
> Despite loving James and trusting him, they never told her where she was, just that she was safe. And I wouldn't wanna stay anywhere where I'm given vague answers. 
> 
> I might make this the last chapter of Part one. If so, expect a splitter chapter soon. Part 1.5 if you will. 
> 
> Still deciding do I want to add the "Plot twist" to part 1. Kinda want the part 1.5 to have the twist in a very vague way, but not sure how I'd started it again, since I wanted our lovely Flower to have a few years in searching of herself without James or Steve. We'll see. Maybe I'll just put this as completed.


	8. Part 1.5 - Reprogram My Will

_June 18 th, 2003, Formosa, Argentina_

The therapist at the local trauma center had told it was good to write down stuff. For coping with everything or to help remember. The center was kind of a homeless shelter too. She wasn’t exactly homeless, but she wouldn’t have been able to afford a therapist. The trauma center therapist was a lovely Japanese lady. Her dark hair was always pinned up in extravagant styles, not one the same as the last one. She always had her square glasses on and ready to go.

While she was a therapist who never got payed, her attitude was never indifferent or mean. Ms. Saito was always warm, inviting and that played a huge part in why she visited her over and over again. One of the few friends she had made had suggested to visit the center, once they noticed how difficult it was for her to interact with people or remember anything about herself.

Antonia sold little inventions and fixed people’s electronics. What she asked barely allowed her to survive, let alone build more. But the people on the outskirts of Formosa weren’t that wealthy. She didn’t need extra money. If she couldn’t pay rent or her next meal, the people always graciously offered to help her. It was a close-knit community that helped everyone.

“An!” Turning at the voice of her friend, Alicia, Antonia gave her a big and real smile. She’d learned that smiling at people when you were in a good mood, would put them in a good mood and they might like you more if you don’t glare them to their early grave. Or so Alicia had said.

“Hey,” she greeted the panting blue haired woman. The pastel blue color of Alicia’s hair complimented her darkened skin much better than it should’ve. “How are you?”

“How am I? I am fucking wonderful, thanks for asking. You will not believe what I just saw.” Antoine’s smile was much more real at her friend’s enthusiastic voice.

“Yeah?” she hummed as she returned to the journal she kept close by, in case she’d need to write stuff down. The page was filled with things under her own name, and a few other names on the page next to it.

“Okay, so. The guy at the hot dog stand, remember him?” Antonia glanced up from the page toward her awaiting friend. The girl was literally vibrating with excitement. The headache building in her head was enough to make her irritated by Alicia’s antics. She loved the woman to death, but sometimes she drove her up five stories.

“Yeah, the red head, right? The one you’ve been crushing on for, oh I don’t know, six months, but have never actually talked to?” Antonia snickered when the blue haired girl whacked her on the shoulder. “Oh, come on, Ms. I-pine-on-people-I-don’t-dare-to-talk-to.”

“I will shove you out of the window, don’t test me,” Antonia couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable threat. She was like a kitten trying to fight a lion. They both knew that the brunette would have the shorter girl on her face in seconds. “Anyway! He saw me stalking him and naturally I knew this was my moment. SOOO, I went up to him and was like, ‘hey man, wanna catch a cup of coffee sometimes’. I heard that’s an adult thing to do, so I was like okay let’s try it.”

“You’ve never even drank coffee, you heathen.” Antonia shoved Alicia away as she tried to catch a look of her notebook. The brunette slammed the notebook closed, storing it in her locked cabinet.

“C’mon, you never let me see what you write!” Alicia whined and she threw a look towards the woman who was acting like a three-year-old despite her 28 years of age. It wasn’t new.

“There’s a reason for that. If I told you what was in there, you wouldn’t know what to do with the information. My past is not all rainbows and sunshine.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me like nine million times already.” Alicia scratched behind her ear, “I know you don’t remember anything ‘cuz you had something horrible happen to you- this is why I need you to tell me, so you don’t make that pissed off face when I talk about it insensitively!” She waved at Antonia’s face with her hand. Sure enough, the brunette was scowling at her friend.

“I don’t tell you, because I don’t want to lose you,” she pointed out.

“But some horrid tale of your past won’t make me run away,” Alicia argued against her.

With a deep sigh the brunette informed her, “I’m not worried _you’ll_ run away.” That made the blue haired girl snap her mouth shut and get an understanding look in her eyes. Her father had worked for the CIA and it’d costed her mother’s life. He did get out of the business after that, but it was a bit late to fix anything. “So, what did the cute hot dog guy say?”

Alicia’s eyes brightened as she explained the rest of the first encounter they had had.

 

Later that evening Antonia returned to her apartment. The whole building was falling apart, and she was quite sure they’d be tearing it apart soon. Which would leave her homeless. Maybe she could room with Alicia. She wouldn’t mind the company and rent would be easier for the both of them.

She stepped inside the lobby and greeted Harold. He was a cleaner/host who held the place up. A long time ago the man had invested money into this building and pursued his dream. But then the people had basically abandoned this part of the town and he was left to the bares. The apartment complex had 16 apartments, but only nine were occupied- Harold included. Antonia was quite sure half of them were druggies. Wouldn’t have been surprising around these corners.

Harold’s frail and weak smile almost broke her heart. He was already in his late sixties, he shouldn’t have been doing so much around the complex. His hands were shaking, mostly due to his never treated addictions. Now he had thankfully enough smarts in his head to not go inject himself. Plus, his grandchildren were quite often around the complex helping their grandfather. Harold’s wife had died a long time ago due to cancer.

Antonia’s apartment was onto second floor, right above the lobby. It was quiet, well until the druggies would start a party. Her keychain held three keys, the keys to her apartment, her workplace and her bike’s lock. Not that a lock would do much around here. A single fluffy ball was hanging from the keys. She’d taken a liking to soft and fluffy things, which was no surprise considering what she had gone through.

The apartment was a lost cause on pretty much everything, though she had tried her best in patching it up. The hallway that opened up right after the door was quite empty, if you excluded the small rug and shoe holder. She couldn’t afford much, most of the stuff in her apartment was used or passed down from friends. She didn’t mind it at all. She enjoyed fixing things and finding out how they worked.

The light that flooded the entry way was dimmed and yellowish. She’d have to fix the circuits again. It was the third time this month alone. The frustrated sigh she let out made her rip her shoes off and hang her purse quite aggressively. As she was about to step into the kitchen, the light almost unnoticeable breathing caused her to halt. Someone was here.

She immediately reached in her pocket for the knife she always had on standby. Her left hand reached for the light switch and as soon as she made out a form, the knife was flying through the air. The figure- a man most likely- leaned out of the way at the very last second. The knife attached itself to the wooden wall behind him.

The man lifted his head at her, eyes glinting curiously. “Hello child,” The Russian accent made her skin crawl and the snarl that left her mouth was downright menacing.

“Who the fuck are you?” She spat out, her hands clenching and unclenching in fists. The man smirked, his expressionless and cold grey eyes watching her every move. “Who are you?” she demanded even louder this time.

“I guess you could call me an old friend,” the words sending a shiver down her spine. “But you’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Making decisions and relationships all on your own accord.” He moved and she moved towards the kitchen isle where a block of knives was situated at. The tsk noise made her flinch. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d hate to use more painful methods, wouldn’t you?”

The questioning tone was enough to send her through a loop. “I ain’t coming with you anywhere. You might’ve missed it, but I’m done.”

“It’s like you truly believe you have a choice.” At the widened eyes and menacing tone, she was sent back to a time where everything was much worse. To the first time this happened. When the first word hit her, she gasped at the pain, “предложение.” (tender)

“Ah, stop.” She rasped out.

“журнал.” (journal) An image of steel blue eyes flashed, and she fell to her knees.

“шесть.” (six)

Everything left like it was slipping away. Like someone else was taking control and pushing her to the back of her head, unable to affect anything.

_Ash. Evening. Nineteen. Reign. Order. Fire._

He continued until only one word was left. After a second of silence he whispered the last breaking word, “криво.” (awry)

The breathing of the figure on its knees evened slowly out, and it lifted its head eyes emotionless and focused on the wall. “Товарищ?” The question solidifying its presence.

“я готов ответить.” (Ready to comply/I am ready to answer.)

 

* * *

_Unknown Location_

The Winter Flower sat at the Chair. Held together by the straps, the scientists and doctors around it were preparing to do something. It didn’t know, it wouldn’t ask. Weapons didn’t have questions.

Its new handler was rubbing his chin while watching it. He was contemplating on something. His empty eyes were almost unfocused due to the intensity of his stare. He wasn’t actually looking at her, but instead was lost inside his head.

“We are ready,” one of the scientists announced and just like that his attention was back in the present. He walked down from the raised platform towards it. Stopping in front of it, he ran his fingers across its jaw.

“God, after this you’ll be perfect. Absolutely and utterly perfect.” His eyes flashed and the grin he gave it was filled with sharp teeth, “I’m sure you’ll remember that little thing you were working on back in 1995. It’s finally completely finished. That Hansen chick got it finally to stabilize after fifteen tries. You were great help, my dear.” His tone would’ve almost been loving, if it wasn’t filled with disgust.

He walked back up, turning towards the doctor. He’d watched the interaction curiously. “Inject her. Three days is far too long, we need her to be ready and we needed it yesterday,” the man hissed at him. He scrambled away, barking orders in Russian. The Winter Flower wasn’t listening. The hazed daze it was in was going to cause problems if its handler would find out. He’d already made it shoot itself in the leg twice. If it weren’t bandaged soon, it’d bleed out. It wouldn’t dare to inform this to the handler. He knew what’d happen upon shooting yourself in the leg, but he didn’t seem to care.

The sudden burning pain that entered its body caused it to scream out in agony. It felt like it was burned alive. The tears that slipped from its eyes despite its best efforts seemed to please the handler.

Its body was rebuilding itself.

Burning a deep fire through all her limbs, focusing on the bullet wounds as they closed after liquid metal flowed out. “Incredible,” the man whispered out. “Truly remarkable.”

The doctors and scientists seemed to abscond from the room, until only one doctor and the man remained.

And it burned for what seemed like years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! I wanted to put this out as soon as possible.
> 
> Part 2 will start after a small break. Leave you on the edge of your seat for a while hopefully.
> 
> Think we should give our poor girl a break? (break her more?)
> 
> First time the control words for Natasha/Antonia/Toni/Winter Flower/Companion (wtf do i call her anymore?) are in the story. There was a reason they were not implemented for the story until now, you can say it was for fun or something. We'll see if you ever find out ;)
> 
> Start of part 2 will be quite emotional. So you've been warned.
> 
> Don't worry there might be a happy ending? I don't remember if I put Angst with Happy Ending as a tag... 😇
> 
> Btw Alicia is based on myself cuz why not. (I am not from argentina tho)


	9. Part 2 - All the Broken Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2.
> 
> Part two will go over the years from 2004 to 2009-ish. This is a major canon divergence story as everything happens a bit earlier and in not the canonically correct order.
> 
> Violence, angst and brainwashing warnings.

_August 2004, Tennessee_

For months they’d been chasing empty leads. Someone had been wrecking chaos in every continent, moving too quickly for them to catch. They were being outsmarted, the team was very well aware of that fact. This person was leaving little clues behind, making sure that the Avengers followed them, only for them to end up on the opposite side of the planet the day another new conflict arose.

One country in the Middle-East was in active crisis. Their leader had been assassinated, who’d been working closely with the now Hydra-free SHIELD. They could all guess just who had given the order for the assassination.

Now they finally had their first solid lead.

It had come from SHIELD, from one of their double agents situated inside Hydra. Apparently, it had been their last message until they were discovered. They weren’t even planning on pulling them out. It disgusted James. Even Hydra had never left anyone behind if they could help it.

“Cap, how we lookin’?” Clint’s voice rang through the comms. They were all planted around the facility, ready to strike when their mystery assassin would come for their target. The target obviously wasn’t in the facility, but no-one needed to know that.

“There’s no sign of movement, nor any signs of anyone near the facility,” Steve announced, his voice wary. He had every right to be. For all they knew Hydra would be coming to capture them. “I don’t like it. They said 11:30 pm-“ a sudden crash noise sounded over the comms.

“Cap!”

“Steve!” Clint and James shouted.

“Target is here, enhanced. Do not engage,” Steve’s pained grunt came floating through like music to their ears. “Get the tranq arrow ready.” Clint’s affirmative answer was lost on James’ ears as he sped through the hallways to Steve’s location. Apparently, the assassin was aware of their plans to stop them.

Unfortunately for James, Steve was on the other side of the facility. They’d taken places so James would be guarding the left side exits and entrances, Steve the right side’s and Clint would take part in by being their eyes on the roof of the building next to them. Another grunt came from Steve’s comms, before the hallway plunged into darkness and the comms turned into static. With a cringe James threw his comm away. The static was unbearably loud. They were going blind on this one if Clint couldn’t hear them. He wouldn’t know when the opportune moment would be, when they were still capable of fighting back.

Navigating through the hallways came a little too difficult, considering how maze like they were. You could start on one floor and end up three floors up without realizing you’d even been near stairs. So cursing SHIELD and their less damage the better policy, he rammed himself through at least three walls before finding Steve and the assassin.

They were locked in an intense hand-to-hand combat, with the assassin- who was in fact female- on Steve’s shoulders, squeezing the hell out of him with her thighs. He was trying to throw her off, but very much unable to as her legs were pinning his arms in an awkward angle. Snapping out of his wonder, James charged ahead, intending to knock the woman off his friend’s shoulders. His plan didn’t exactly succeed when he found himself on the floor, on his back with the woman on top of him. Steve had flown through a wall. She’d done an impressive maneuver of throwing herself to the ground- thighs still very much around Steve’s neck- before flinging him through a wall. Her eyes were flashing gold, as she had him pinned. With a start James realized he could barely move, much less get out from under her.

“You’ve got me,” James hissed at her. “What are you going to do?” Taunting a Hydra operative slash assassin wasn’t practically a good idea, but he was done being held down by Hydra. Her eyes flashed dangerously as they narrowed, and she leaned close, too close in fact. She wasn’t obviously going to answer him. The muzzle Hydra had supplied her with wasn’t exactly made for talking. Any sound would be severely muffled, barely understandable. A sudden hope flared in him. Maybe she wasn’t doing this willingly.

“Stop this,” James gently coaxed her. “We can help you. Get you away from the people who hurt you.” An emotion flared in her eyes. Her grip was very loose by now and he slipped a hand free. His fingers gently went behind her head, clicking the muzzle’s loosening button. Her hand suddenly shot out and took a hold of his wrist, when he was planning on pulling it away. A watery substance sprang to her eyes, recognition flaring in the golden liquid that filled her eyes.

“You can’t,” a hoarse voice came, the disuse evident. The silky smoothness still very much there, as it had been for the last eighty years. Natasha’s eyes dimmed from the blood lusted gold it had been. The pain, the longing, it was so clear in her eyes. His other hand rose to caress the corner of her eye. She leaned into the touch, like she’d been starved of touch for _years_.

“What have they done to you, _moy_ _solnishko_?” James whispered, his own longing and pain ringing to her ears. Anguish filled her whiskey eyes. It seemed as if she’d been shocked considering how quickly she jumped up. Her fiery gaze burning on the blond stepping through the broken wall. James snapped his eyes towards the person, only to find Steve there. It was clear in her eyes, she knew nothing of him. Didn’t recognize him either. Her stance was sprung like a coil, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“Терпеть неудачу полет, цель не находился вздании.” (Mission failed, target was not in the building.) Natasha’s eyes widened, and she suddenly hissed at them, “you have to leave! If they find you, they’ll make me kill you. Or worse.”

James glanced at Steve. His face was filled with confusion and determination. “We ain’t leaving you. Might’ve done that once, won’t do it again,” James threw her a stubborn look. The fear and pain that washed over her face for a split second, before she schooled her expression to a neutral and expressionless look. Seconds later a man stepped into the room. He was tall, his skin a beautiful golden brown. His dark hair was swept into a neat look. James shuddered at his eyes. They were a steel color, as strong and unyielding. And as cold as metal in winter time.

“Pet,” the man crooned, and Natasha snapped to attention. James watched with bewilderment as the woman he loved walked obediently to the Hydra officer. Steve’s look was of the same category. The mans hand wound itself in her hair, his fingers stroking through the long locks that were trapped in a ponytail. “Are they bothering you?”

“ _Nyet_ ,” the small word rang through the small office space. His eyes flashed threateningly, before he gripped her ponytail in a painful grasp. He bend her down to her knees and that alone made James almost attack him. He pushed his face close to her face, a sneer visible.

“I’ve told you not to lie!” He yelled before striking her across her face. James was about to move when Steve clamped a hand on his shoulder, his hold iron strong. The officer turned his face towards them, giddiness and something deeply off-putting flashing in his eyes, “please. Do you think you can do something to me, with her in my control?” He scoffed when James’ features twisted to murder.

“Let her go, and we will not harm you,” Steve bargained. He was trying to be smart about this, perhaps buying Clint enough time. The dark-haired man burst out laughing. His manic grin split his face.

“You would fight your lover?” He asked, his question obviously directed towards James. “It’s too bad I didn’t bother ever remembering your trigger words. She doesn’t even need them.” Concern and anxiety spread through James’ very being. What did he mean-? “I have perfected her. Unable to resist, free to cause as much harm as she wants. No need for a few silly words when all I have to do is say her a command. She’ll do it without hesitation or question.”

“Who are you?”

“I am yet another faceless name in the crowd, leaping to fix justice.” The ‘faceless name’ shrugged his shoulders. “Hydra was useful in it’s golden years. Now thanks to your newly chosen side, it’s been slightly suffering in the wake of your clearing. Now, what would my little pet like to do?”

“Let her go!” James yelled, trying to fight off Steve. His grip only tightened. James would be unable to rescue his love from this man if Steve kept stopping him.

“I can make her do anything. How would you like her to kill you, hm?” Natasha whimpered, and the man’s face turned hating. “You have no choice, my pet, you know this.” His words could’ve been taken as calming or gently, had it not been in the context they were spoken in. His voice was borderline awing and full of- lovingness? He couldn’t love her. Right?

Natasha was mouthing the word ‘please’ over and over again. She wasn’t staring at Steve or James, but the man. He seemed to have made his decision as he rose up, throwing her to the ground. A snarl escaped James’ mouth. “I’ve had enough of this- this animalistic show,” the man announced, before pulling up something reminding them of a tablet. His finger moved over the screen with expertise.

Then the screaming started. Both James and Steve flinched as the woman they both loved kicked and screamed and cried in front of them. Before either of them could think about moving, the man was flicking his fingers across the screen. Natasha stopped screaming, slowly rising with a blank expression. She didn’t move or acknowledge anyone of them. “Useful little thing, isn’t it?”

“What is?” James tiredly asked, hoping for any kind of answer, except the evasive ones he’d been giving since the start. His eyes flicked to Natasha before returning to the tablet.

“EXTREMIS, they called it,” his eyes glinted with danger. “It’s pure irony that before she was put back under, she perfected the formula. Maya Hansen was great help too. It was her original idea. But it was quite unstable before my pet took care of it.”

James’ brain took the information and stored it, so he could process it later, when the situation wasn’t so heartbreakingly horrible. “They made her brain into a computer. She can access all kinds of electricity, with the exception of this. Wouldn’t want her to destroy our only portable way to control her,” the maniac continued. “Now we must leave, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes, I do mind,” James snapped at him, his voice threateningly low. The man laughed, the sound vicious and insane.

“Oh, I bet you do. But what can you do about it?” The man flicked his fingers on the screen, and in seconds both super soldiers were flung from their spots into the walls, easily going through.

When they rose up and returned, both the man and Natasha were long gone.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter of a chapter.
> 
> I was gonna keep my break a bit longer, but then I got in the mood to write.
> 
> Natalia isn't in this as she is on a SHIELD mission, somewhere.
> 
> My wrist is sprained, so this chapter was brought to you alongside pain. YAY!
> 
> Also, shall we reveal the name of our mystery man in the next one? He's someone you all know.  
> (i wanna kill someone of the important characters, but aaa i can't cuz it won't fit the story)


	10. Have Mercy

_November 2004, Rhode Island_

James sat by a large window. The coffee shop they’d chosen for the exchange of information had been a truly remote location. It was minutes away from Woonsocket, but close enough to call backup. He wasn’t alone of course, Natalia was sat to his left few tables away. Steve was standing in a hotel room across the street, incase they’d need even more support.

James jotted down another thought in his leather case notebook. The thing was filled with little scribbles, full of memories. HYDRA-time memories- as Steve called them- he wrote to the back; the text flipped the other way.

The bell by the door jolted James out of his thoughts. His eyes followed the figure. He was a tall, military man. His hair short-cropped, though fitting. The dark-skinned man ordered a large cappuccino and turned around to lean on the counter. His eyes flicked around the room, before stopping on Natalia but quickly moving to James. The man nodded at him and grabbed the freshly brewed coffee. His strut towards James’ table was very ‘manly’- as one would call it.

“You must be the man I’m supposed to meet.” He appraised James before sitting down in front of him. “I suppose you’ll want your file. How you guys don’t have this, I have no clue.”

“It’s not always easy t’ get information, Colonel,” James eyed the achievements the man had stapled on his uniform. “But it’s nice of you t’ agree t’ this meeting.”

“Information drives a hard bargain,” Colonel Rhodes placed a basic file on the table, his hand splayed over it. “I hope you know we’ll ask for information back.”

“Jus’ need the name, Colonel,” James leaned towards him, “took one of ours an’ practically destroyed her entirely. We wanna just get her back.”

Rhodes hummed, “I can get behind that, yeah. Make sure you give the bastard a good lesson, too. He’s caused a lot of destruction inside our own ranks. And that was before he became a two-faced agent.” The file slid neatly towards James and the Colonel sipped his coffee for a while.

He opened the file and was greeted with the same man, only this one had a beard. He glanced around the file before closing it. He had all he needed. The file slid right back to Rhodes. “Thank you, Colonel. Really. This’ll help a lot.”

Colonel Rhodes eyed him for a bit, before nodding towards the file, “sure you don’t wanna keep it? We have all this information on a computer, too.”

“I have a good memory. Thank you for the offer though.” James handed his hand over, perhaps to shake in hopes of parting away as likely allies in the future too. Not only with the air force, but with this man as well. They shook their hands and James rose from the seat, heading out the door. As soon as he was out he pressed his comm on.

“Rumlow, Brock. An American citizen. Was in the air force before he turned into a double agent. Worked for Fury before he turned his back on America and became a terrorist for HYDRA,” James recited back to his teammates.

“Just like we expected. Someone higher up. He couldn’t have accessed so much in such a short time if he didn’t have well established contacts.” Steve filled in what James already knew. He suspected Natalia did too.

James walked across the street towards the hotel, Natalia following behind him quietly, “he also had to be high up in HYDRA- to be able to access Natasha.”

“And EXTREMIS,” James reminded. “We still hafta find Hansen.”

“I doubt that girl is much better than Natasha right now. If she’s even alive,” Nat supplied. It was true. They had sent a message to Maya Hansen awhile ago- she’d never answered. They had ruled her out as a reliable source.

“Do we have anything else right now, other than waiting for a never-coming message or waiting for someone to recognize Rumlow?” James grumbled, bummed out he couldn’t help his girl. She needed him and he wasn’t able to do anything.

Nat slipped into the elevator with him, just before the doors closed. She put a brief hand on his shoulder. They all three had an emotional compromise when it came to the Winter Flower. She was Steve’s ex(was ex right if they never broke up?)-girlfriend, Nat’s savior and James’- well, his lover. She was his in everything but the official word, and James hers.

Both Nat and James turned off their comms as they reached the floor the room was in. Before they could step into the room, a movement in the hallway they’d just come from caught his eye. He tensed and let his hand fall from the door knob. Natalia turned from the window she’d been watching. “What is it?” she hissed, voice barely above a whisper. James glanced at her, before slipping a finger to his mouth. He crept towards the end of the hallway, turning his head to the left.

Before he could react, James was thrown down to the floor. He could hear Nat running towards them and felt a pinch of pain in his arm. He turned his gaze to find a needle in his elbow pit. It was filled with a yellow-brownish liquid, but surprisingly it was full. That was probably explained by Nat rolling on the floor with his attacker.

The attacker was- Natasha. Was Rumlow really that uncreative that he sent her after them twice? Didn’t he understand that they’d do anything to get her back? Growling, James ripped the needle from his arm and threw it to the ground, the vital shattering and leaking the liquid to the floor. The crashing sound apparently startled both Natalie and Natasha. Nat flew into the wall as Natasha gripped her arm where it was bleeding. She examined her bloody fingers, before baring her teeth to Natalia. Nat was sitting on the floor; her pained puffs audible.

“Natasha,” James pleaded, and the gold-eyed woman’s eyes flickered to him in surprise. “Where’s Rumlow? If we get him, we can free you.”

“And if I don’t want to come with you?” Natasha glared at him, her voice rough with an accent he couldn’t recognize.

“We’ll let you go,” James promised. “We just want you out of his clutches, so he can’t hurt you or control you.”

“You won’t find him.” The golden-eyes sparked with mirth, “he didn’t come with.”

“That’s a lie,” he quipped. He could see the little shakiness her hands always did when she lied. Natasha had always been afraid of lying. It was painfully taught to her at a young age, long before HYDRA.

“I-I can’t help you.”

“Is he near?” James stepped closer and Natasha stepped back, her silence all the answer he needed. “In a nearby building perhaps?”

When she didn’t answer, he nodded towards Natalia. She was out before he could even blink. Natasha’s eyes followed James, no matter what he did. Every little shift he would make, she’d tense up again. James slipped his comm in his ear, the frantic calls from Steve coming through.

_“Bu-James! James!”_

“Yes, Steve?” The name made Natasha snap her gold-filled eyes towards him, wariness growing in them.

_“Oh- oh thank God. What the hell is going on out there?”_

“It’s Natasha again.” James told him carefully. James heard the pained gasp from Steve and saw the slight shiver that raced through her body.

 _“Rumlow?”_ Steve snarled out. James sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Nat’s dealing with him, hopefully.” Something crashed on the other side of Nat’s comm. “I guess she found him.”

 _“How you want him boys?”_ Natalia’s smooth voice came through. _“Sliced or diced?”_

 _“Neither,”_ Steve snarled out. _“Just get him here. And keep the tablet far away from him if he has it.”_

They could hear Rumlow yelling in the background. Natasha’s eyes slipped closed, the fight leaving her body. James was about to sigh in relief, until the fierce woman went limp and almost hit the floor, if it weren’t for him catching her. “Jesus,” he breathed out. “Natasha just about passed out in my arms.”

 _“That’d be my fault,”_ Natalia admitted. _“I swiped the release command. We’ll have to destroy the tablet if we want her to be fully free.”_

 _“Of course we do!”_ Steve shouted and James couldn’t help the wince. _“Now get me out of this goddamn room, the door’s jammed.”_

“Yeah, okay.” James laid the woman he loved more than life itself on the ground gently. Sighing deeply, he headed for the hotel room Steve was trapped in. And apparently unable to break out of.

 

* * *

 

Brock Rumlow woke up tied to a chair.

Couldn’t get more low-budget than this.

He rolled his neck around a few times before lifting his gaze to access the room before him. It was a basic interrogation room. There was a desk and an empty chair before him in the otherwise empty room. The observation glass didn’t give him a view of anything other than himself, tied to the fucking chair.

Ridiculous.

The door on his right opened and The Black Widow herself stepped into the room. Her cold icy eyes followed his every movement- not that he could make many. He couldn’t remember quite clearly how he’d ended up here. He’d been observing The Winter Flower as she moved towards her targets. Then suddenly the assassin had stopped (he was unable to hear the conversation), and soon enough he’d lost visual. When he’d tried to get it back, everything had gone to black.

“Quite the show you put up for us,” The Widow tipped her head towards him slightly. “Not many dare to attack us once, but you did it twice.”

“I didn’t attack you. The Flower did,” he smirked at the brief irritation that flashed in her eyes. “Your crew isn’t that unbeatable. Sure, you have some great elements, but anyone with enough knowledge of your weaknesses can do enough damage. What luck was it to me that three out of four shared a weakness?”

“Hm. What I’d like to know is why she’s currently lying unconscious in the med bay, unable to wake up?” The Widow shifted and lifted a neat eyebrow. Brock couldn’t help the slight worry that flashed through him. Despite him being a ‘heartless double-agent’, he’d learned to love the deadly assassin. He could understand her franticness.

“She won’t wake up.” The Widow’s anger seemed to rise a level as his words caused a deep reaction in her. “The program is very simple. Once a command is given, it can only be broken by another command.”

“Why’d she always stop when she recognized James then?”

“Obviously there are some problems with the program,” Brock scowled at the table. “It isn’t as perfect as I would want it to be. Obviously, I couldn’t make her do the coding. She could’ve made a kill switch. Don’t want that.”

“So what? We have to _give an order_ to her in order for her to wake up?” The outrage in her voice seemed only to shine through The Widow’s eyes.

“She won’t wake up unless her brain receives the command. Funny thing, connecting EXTREMIS to the network and all electronic devices. She complained it was noisy the first time,” he supplied. “If you won’t give the command, she’ll eventually starve and die. It’ll take a long time and it’ll be painful, but that’s a possibility too.”

“Are you insane?” she hissed, slamming her hand down on the table. “I would not kill _my sister_!”

“Well, in my defense you are an assassin. None of you are supposed to have _emotions_.”

“We’re not cold-blooded killers! We’re not psychopaths, we’re human too!” The Widow growled at him, glaring a hole through him. Rumlow had to admit that the famous ‘Widow stare’ was as terrifying as it had been made out to be. “You will tell me how to free her from this- this _curse_ you’ve put in her!”

“I mean I would, if I knew how to.” The snarl that left her mouth was an impressive volume. The punch that followed was painful too, as it happened to also break his nose. “ _Ow_.”

“If you can’t, you will tell me who can do it!”

“I’m not sure anyone can!” Brock yelled in desperation, tipping his head back at the pain. “Maybe she could do it herself if you allowed her to.”

The Widow left the room, snarling the whole time.

Welp, this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined Brock to be this slightly psychopathic person that made it his life mission to annoy others. Dunno why.
> 
> This fic is now complete. I don't know when I will start the sequel for this but follow the series if you wanna see how it ends!
> 
> I'm applying for my next study place tomorrow, and gah- can i stop stressing it out? Send help for that too lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make an authors day!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [ **My Tumblr** ](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/jaggedheartstrings)


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